


Nothing But The Rain - Michael Hong

by Galacticon4Winners



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Galacticon 4 fanfic competition, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:43:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4579371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galacticon4Winners/pseuds/Galacticon4Winners
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of the two joint runners up in the 2015 Galacticon 4 Fanfiction competition, 'Nothing but the Rain' is a study of the relationship between Kara "Starbuck" Thrace and Admiral Bill Adama of the Battlestar Galactica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing But The Rain - Michael Hong

**Author's Note:**

> The competition judges said: "An interesting, thought-provoking story that challenges the reader (through a non-linear storyline) yet engages them with an excellent characterisation of Starbuck. She is well drawn, particularly with regard to her resilience. Although other canon characters are only glimpsed, they are solidly done and concisely conveyed (Tigh’s sourness comes over perfectly in only a couple of lines. Spot on!). But the real creativity comes through using the creation and evolution of a jodie to show the characters – an unusual and commendable approach."

# NOTHING BUT THE RAIN 

 

A Battlestar Galactica short story by **Michael Hong**

 

 

_What do you hear, Starbuck?_  
_Nothing but the rain._  
_Then grab your gun and bring in the cat._  
_Boom! Boom! Boom!_

“Today is the first day of the rest of your life, Lee.”

Kara Thrace felt herself passing from this existence onto the next stage. Was this death? Ascension? Resurrection? Didn’t she die before? Hadn’t she already come back to life? No, this was not death. This was not resurrection. It was something, different.

Kara Thrace began to relive important moments from her life as if this were her true Death. Significant moments. Powerful moments. Emotional moments. Times of intense, excruciating pain and times of sorrow. A young girl’s hand slammed in a door. Abandonment by her father. The death of Zak Adama. Imprisonment on New Caprica. The death of Kat. The waking “death” of Sam.

But there were also moments of exhilaration, joy, ecstasy. Even contentment. Her first lover. Being admitted to the Colonial Military Academy. Receiving a commission to the Colonial Fleet. Flying a Viper for the first time. How frakking awesome was that?

Sometimes the good times were linked with the bad times, intertwined until Kara could never have imagined the two being separate events in her life. Was she driven to fly Viper ships because of the anger she felt toward her mother and her father? Did that push her into succeeding at the Academy? What about her strong relationship with William Adama? From the despair over the death of Zak Adama developed a bond with the man that Kara saw as her father.

*****

Images. The pain of Zak’s death had faded. No longer was the wound so raw and sensitive. Kara Thrace still remembered him, but she didn’t feel the pain so intensely. Zak’s father, William Adama, had comforted her. Adama had even suggested that Kara return to the Fleet on board the Battlestar Galactica. Kara appreciated the gesture. She now had something to do, to take her mind off of her loss.

*****

"Wake up, Starbuck! Time to run!”

“Five more minutes. Please. I had a long night. Five more minutes.”

“Nope, Starbuck. Get up and get your boots on. Now. We’re running.”

Despite her reluctance to get out of her bunk, Kara did enjoy running. At first, she hated it. Too boring. Not enough to do. It’s just… running. What is it? You just go on and on. Where?

In her earlier years, Kara had dreams of becoming a Pyramid player. She was quite good at it too. She was the captain of her school team. She set conference records, some of which lasted as long as the Colonies did. The pro teams had sent scouts to watch her in action. Even the C-Bucks sent someone. There had been talk that she could be drafted. But then the knee injury happened.

Sometimes there’s nothing you can do. Kara was not always disciplined but she made sure to keep her body in top shape. Running drills, sprint drills, plyometrics, lateral moves, strength training, all were done to keep her muscles, ligaments, tendons and bones strong for the demands of the sport of Pyramid. She trained hard but she also trained smart.

Then it happened. Despite all the training, all the preparation, all the strength work, all the attention to nutrition, it happened. It was during a simple scrimmage. Maybe she didn’t pay attention to the warm-up routine as closely as she should have. She was too busy chatting with a guy from the other team, someone she had met a few weeks before. Or maybe she shouldn’t have ignored the minor soreness from the week before. Or was it a flaw in her training routine?

As she sprinted and cut laterally, her knee gave out. At first, she didn’t feel much. Kara thought she had only slipped on the grass. Not a problem. There was always the next play. But then the wave of pain washed over her and she knew this was something more.

At the hospital, the doctors confirmed that it was a tear of the anterior cruciate ligament. There was damage to the other ligaments as well. Kara decided to throw all her energy into rehabbing from the knee injury, just as she did with her Pyramid training. But the recovery didn’t go according to plan. The knee wasn’t healing as well as she had hoped for. Eventually, the doctors had to break the news that while she could lead a normal life and walk and run again, she probably wouldn’t be able to play Pyramid at the professional level.

Even if she restored her strength, speed and agility, word had gotten out about the injury. That was just as bad as the physical injury itself. The sports media and the pro scouts were scared off by Kara’s injury. There were other prospects out there. No one wanted to take a risk on damaged goods. Maybe she could still play and contribute to a pro team, but let it be someone else’s team. Competition was intense and budgets were tight. The teams couldn’t afford to lose big on a gamble like Kara Thrace. What if they sunk a lot of money into a contract and her knee collapsed the next month? What then? All that money would have accomplished nothing. So Kara waited for agents and teams to contact her, but no one ever did. That was the end of her dream of playing Pyramid in the pro leagues.

*****

“OK, I’m getting my boots on. Hold on. I’ll be there in a minute,” Kara said.

Kara rubbed the sleep from her eyes and squinted as the early morning sun shone through the trees. She was stationed back on Caprica while the Battlestar Galactica was in the shipyard for inspection and a minor overhaul. It was always good to be back to Caprica, on solid ground, with the blue sky above, fresh air to breathe, grass and trees, and room to run. Kara loved her assignment on Galactica. Even a Viper jock could appreciate the comforts of Caprica and being on a planet. Galactica, as great as she was, was still a giant metal box in space. Enormous in size but still constricting. Sometimes Kara wondered how something so large and spacious could induce feelings of claustrophobia. Then she remembered just how narrow the corridors were, the unending views of metal walls, and the cramped bunks, even for the officers.

Kara had slowly come to appreciate running. When she was a Pyramid player, she liked the hard sprint drills. She never had to run long. Like many other Pyramid players, she had never run more than a couple miles at any one time. Pyramid is an explosive sport, one that requires quick reflexes, power, hard lateral cuts, full-body contact and intense bursts of activity, not the long slow grind of distance running. Sometimes she used the stationary bike during her Pyramid-playing days. She did some longer sessions on the bikes. But not on a regular basis. There wasn’t the need to build that much aerobic endurance for an anaerobic sport.

After she entered the Academy and later the Fleet, she had to run as part of standard training. Kara didn’t like it, but it’s what you were required to do. So she did it. As wild as she could be on occasion, she understood the importance of physical fitness and the importance of building camaraderie among the members of her class at the Academy and now the members of her unit on Galactica.

The muscular fitness from her Pyramid training carried over to running somewhat. But the mental aspect required an adjustment. The shorter runs were fine. She had the company of the other service members. She enjoyed the jodie calls on the runs. This kept her mind occupied.

As the weeks and months went by at the Academy, running became more natural to Kara. A 30-minute run now seemed to pass by in a heartbeat. Kara also began to try some longer runs on her own. When she was a Pyramid player, she would never have thought about running for more than 20 minutes, let alone an hour or two. But now she began to increase the amount of time she spent on the run. She liked the dirt trails in the Caprican woods. The softer surface was easier on her legs. The sounds of nature also had a calming effect on her. She could raise hell the rest of the week. But on her long run, everything was calm, peaceful and serene.

*****

Kara and her training partners continued their run around the base grounds. Kara felt good. Galactica would get the maintenance that she needed. The old ship would look like new. Almost like new. Well, that wouldn’t be accurate either. She may never look like new again. But at least she might not smell so bad after the maintenance. There had been talk that the ship would be decommissioned in the coming years and that the grand vessel would become nothing more than a museum. Ugh, what a sad fate for such a graceful and powerful ship. She smelled bad. She looked bad at times. But she had history. She had character. She was the mother and protector of her crew.

The running group neared a clearing where some of the top officers were reviewing new personnel for the Galactica. Commander Adama was calm but energized. He too welcomed the chance to be back on Caprica, walking on the dirt and standing under the bright sun.

_What do you hear, Starbuck?_  
_Nothing but the rain._  
_Then grab your gun and bring in the cat._  
_Boom! Boom! Boom!_

The new recruits look puzzled by the exchange. They were familiar with jodies. They had often sung them during morning runs at the Academy or in basic training. They sang them during team sports workouts. But the jodies they sang always rhymed. Almost always.

Adama noticed the confused looks on their faces. “Why the strange looks? Haven’t you ever heard a jodie?”

“Yes, sir!”

Adama walked up to the nearest recruit. “At ease, soldier. What’s troubling you? What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing, sir. It’s just…”

“Just what?” Adama asked calmly.

“It’s just that I don’t get it, sir. The… jodie. It… doesn’t rhyme. Or make any sense. Sir.”

Adama chuckled. “That’s OK, son. It’s not supposed to make sense. It does have meaning. As you spend some time on the ship, you’ll learn the meaning.”

Adama walked off as the team exercise leaders took over. He looked to his right and noticed his friend, Saul Tigh, scowling.

“You too, Saul? What’s wrong with everyone today? The weather is great and we’re back on Caprica for a few weeks. What’s wrong with that?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, Bill. Why are you telling the recruits that the jodie has a deeper meaning? It doesn’t.”

Adama laughed. “It’s not that serious. You know the history of it. Maybe it does have some meaning.”

“That’s just a load of bull. You know that. It’s not important though. I like it here on Caprica too.”

“Starbuck seems to like the jodie…”

Before Adama could finish, he saw Tigh’s face twitch in irritation over the mention of Starbuck.

“What’s wrong now?”

“Nothing. Nothing, Bill. Well, it’s only, Kara Thrace, I think she’s a troublemaker. She’s trouble.”

“She’s a great Viper pilot. You know that.”

“Yes, she has talent. But she’s unfocused and undisciplined. She’s not good for morale. You let her get away with too much.”

“She was dealing with some… issues.”

Tigh saw that he had struck a nerve, that he had accidentally reminded him of Zak Adama’s death.

“Sorry, Bill. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s alright.” Adama paused for a moment, before carrying on. “Do you have the updates on the maintenance schedule for the ship? How much more time do we have here on Caprica?”

*****

After running past Commander Adama, Starbuck began to reflect on her time with the Galactica crew and Adama. Zak’s death had been tough on her, but it had been tough on Adama too. Kara was glad that she had Adama for support and comfort during that difficult time.

“Hey “Turtle” -- are you keeping up back there? Did I ever tell you that running is awesome?”

Kara laughed as she said this. She was taunting Turtle, but she was also poking fun at herself. She used to gripe about how much running they did at the Academy. Kara used to complain about having to run on the Galactica, through those crowded corridors and hard metal surfaces that were tough on the knees. Everyone remembered her complaints. They also knew that she had grown to accept running. They weren’t sure if she loved running. But she didn’t complain about it as much these days.

Running had helped Kara to burn off a lot of nervous energy and deal with the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her after Zak’s death. Running wasn’t therapy, officially speaking. But yeah, it sort of was a form of therapy. When she was running, she could give herself some space and separation away from the grief. She wasn’t so much running away from the grief as she was stepping off to the side, letting the grief simmer away while she recharged her batteries. It was her vacation time away from the pain. She knew she wasn’t escaping the grief, but she knew that running and weights gave her a breather, so when she returned to her everyday tasks, she had a clearer outlook.

The pain faded gradually, until she was just running because she had come to enjoy running. She still missed Pyramid and dreamed about making a comeback, but she understood that would never happen. She also found a new challenge, in the obstacle course training and competitions in the Fleet. Now there was something she could really throw her energy into. What could be better than charging through the mud in front of dozens of screaming maniacs on her way to scrambling over the walls, climbing the rope, swinging from the handgrips? The new recruits were impressed. The officers were impressed. She wasn’t quite as successful at the obstacle course challenges as she was at Pyramid, but she was more than respectable in competition.

As she ran, Kara sometimes spotted natural or man-made obstacles along the route. How would she take on those challenges if she were in a competition? What about that large boulder? Could she scramble over that and do so quickly? Could she jump over those metal containers in the corridor? Then her thoughts would return to the path in front of her. Sometimes that would be a narrow corridor and she would run on the hard steel surface. Today, on Caprica, she was running on the softer dirt, near the woods that bordered the military base.

“Wait up Starbuck!” Turtle barked out. Turtle was a tough guy, but he could struggle during the runs. He was strong, but he wasn’t fast. He was also too bulky to be a true speedster, but Kara didn’t mind.

“Remember when you first came aboard the Galactica, Starbuck? What did you think of the “rain”? Those nuggets looked confused as hell back there.”

“What are you talking about, Turtle?”

“The rain! What do you hear, Starbuck?”

“It’s not like I sit around and think deep thoughts about a jodie, Turtle. It’s there. We sing it. Simple as that.”

“Yeah, but no one else in the Fleet sings this jodie. This is OUR frakkin’ jodie, Starbuck!” Turtle laughed as he became animated.

“You’re an idiot, Turtle.”

Kara denied thinking about the meaning of the chant. But it did have meaning for her. The words weren’t that important. But the chant did belong to the crew of the Galactica. The present crew and all the former personnel, going all the way back to the great Cylon War.

The chant also marked her new career move, as a Viper pilot on Galactica. She thought back to a training mission in her first month on Galactica…

*****

“Viper Nine authorized for launch.”

After she blasted out of the launch tube in the Viper, Starbuck saw an opportunity to do some improvising. Kara liked to show off flying skills when she had the chance.

The simulated target was up ahead. But something wasn't right. This was too simple. Two more ships flew into view, from the side. These were simulated enemies but just as important for the training mission. Take them out. Starbuck maneuvered the Viper in a series of rolls and sharp turns. She positioned herself behind the simulated attackers and tagged both of them with her virtual guns.

Near the end of the mission, Adama called out over the wireless, “What do you hear, Starbuck?”

“How is that, Galactica?”

“Galactica actual. What do you hear?” Adama said calmly.

“I don’t hear anything but the DRADIS, sir. And there’s nothing on DRADIS except the Galactica and the other Vipers in the air wing.”

“So you hear nothing but the rain, Starbuck.”

“Uh, no, sir. No rain out here. We’re in space. Sir.”

Adama laughed. “That’s not what I meant. I’ll have to explain it to you. Galactica actual out.”

*****

Although Kara always denied it, she did miss having a father during her adolescence. So many teenagers want to be free from their parents. They want the space to do their own thing, see the world, do new things. Fly the coop! Kara certainly liked having a good time as much as the next teenager. But she also felt the always-present absence of her father (if one could describe an absence as always present).

She liked being on the Galactica, with William Adama as her commanding officer. He was someone you could respect. A true gray eminence. More than that, Kara trusted Commander Adama as a confidant and a mentor. Adama was like an uncle to her. Maybe even a father. As independent as Kara tried to be, she missed the support of a father in her life. She could have used a shoulder to lean on during many days at the Academy. She needed someone to lean on when Zak died.

Fortunately, the same incident that took Zak away from her, also brought Commander Adama into her life. For that, she was grateful. Kara took risks in her Viper. She pushed it to the edge, in Pyramid, in her obstacle course competitions and in her flying. Some thought of her as a reckless, egomaniacal individualist. But Kara always knew that she was part of a team. She had to trust in people like Chief Tyrol, Socinus and Cally. Without them, her ship wouldn’t hold together during tough maneuvers. She had to trust the crews that maintained the tylium fuel supplies and the life support systems on the Galactica. She had to trust the leaders that kept the crew functioning and sane. She wasn’t so fond of Colonel Tigh. Maybe his wife was the problem. Ellen, was that her name? Other than Tigh, Kara respected the leaders on Galactica. Above all, she admired and respected Commander Adama.

*****

After the debriefing, Kara was on her way back to quarters when she ran into Commander Adama.

“What do you think of the new engine in the Viper, Starbuck? Tyrol and his crew spent a lot of time working out the kinks.”

“Chief did a good job as usual, sir.”

“And what did you hear?”

“In the engine, sir? Nothing unusual.”

“No, Starbuck. Not the engine.”

“In the ship. I didn’t hear anything in the ship either, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“I didn’t mean that either.”

“I’m a little confused, sir.”

Adama laughed. “Don’t worry about it, Starbuck. I want to tell you about a tradition we have, here on the Galactica. About the rain.”

“Oh, yes, the rain. I didn’t understand what you were saying before, sir.”

*****

"Turtle, what's with the strange jodie that doesn't rhyme?"

"Nothing special. It's a tradition among the Galactica crew. Ever since the Cylon War, I hear."

"If it's nothing special, then why don't you tell me what it is?"

"I'm not sure myself. I just go along with it. I've heard it but no one explains it to me. I'm just a peon around here."

"You're a peon and I'm a newbie. So two hopeless people," Starbuck said as she laughed.

"But what does it mean? Why is he asking what I hear? Do the engines make a strange sound on this old ship? Can you hear a humming in the walls?"

"Nope. It doesn't have any meaning. A call to arms, maybe? Stop being so annoying Starbuck."

"I want to know. C'mon!"

"Well, I have to run. I have a duty shift soon."

*****

In the officers lounge, Kara was playing cards, and winning. She was impatient though, more impatient than normal.

"What's up, Starbuck?" Boomer said. "You're acting crazier than usual."

"Nothing. Hey, let me take a look at that."

"What? The paper?"

"Yes, the paper."

"Why? Is there something important about this exact sheet of paper, Starbuck?"

"Well, no. Look at this, the corners. Have you ever wondered why they cut off all the corners on every sheet?"

"You know the story, Starbuck."

"Why don't you tell me, Helo? No, I don't know."

"It goes back to the Cylon War, or so they say."

"Who is they?"

"They is whoever studies these things, Starbuck. On some of the forward bases, toward the Prolmar Sector, many of the soldiers and Marines were followers of the goddess Disciplina."

"Disciplina? Never heard of her," Boomer said with a smirk.

"Disciplina? As in discipline? She is the goddess of sternness. Faithfulness. And frugality."

"And?"

"And, these soldiers heard about the supply shortages on the Colonial home worlds. The scrap metal drives, ammunition drives. And paper drives."

"I remember my parents talking about going on paper drives during the War," Boomer chimed in.

"Yes, there you go," Helo continued. "So anyway, an enterprising individual heard about the supply shortages and the paper drives. He worked in requisitions. He told everyone that they needed to start conserving materials in order to support the war effort against the toasters. They had to, get this, cut corners. Then they literally cut corners. They started cutting off the corners of each sheet of paper to save on paper supplies for the Colonial war effort."

"C'mon! Is that really true? Someone told me that in school, but I thought they made it up."

"No, Boomer, it's true. Or it's likely to be true. A lot of records were lost during those years, especially in the distant outposts. But it could make sense."

"Really, Helo?"

"Yes, really, Starbuck. Why not?"

"How much paper are you saving, Helo? Or were they saving?"

"From an 8 x 5 print sheet, eight times five, that's forty. Each of those corners, you're saving say half a square inch. Multiply that by four and you get two square inches. So two out of forty square inches. Someone do the math. Quickly."

"Five percent," said Racetrack.

"Thanks, Racetrack. Yes, they would save five percent. It may not seem like much, but that's five percent in supplies. Every little bit helps, as they say."

"Are you just frakking with all of us, Helo?"

"No, Racetrack. This is what I've always heard. I never had any reason to doubt it."

"Then why do it now? I mean, why cut off the corners now?"

"Well, it became a tradition. Everyone has apparently forgotten why we do it, but I think the leaders wanted to continue to cut off the corners as a reminder of the darker days, when we were fighting for our survival against the Cylons. That we shouldn't take anything for granted. Things were bleak once and they could be again. It's a little thing, but that's what a professor told me at the Academy. It's a way to remember the sacrifices that everyone made during the War."

"Hmm, I had never thought of it like that," Racetrack said.

Starbuck had a skeptical expression. "I don't know. Disciplina? Can it really be true?"

"I knew some people at the Academy who were followers of Disciplina. So that's true."

"Right, Boomer. I knew one person who was also a follower. I didn't know him too well. But he fit the mold. He was definitely frugal."

"Don't you mean he was a cheapskate, Helo?"

"Well, I guess you could put it like that, Starbuck. He was an admirable fellow. I lost touch with him. I'll have to look him up the next time we're out that way."

"I think the story about the paper is a made-up story, to read to nuggets when they are scared at night."

"Starbuck, you were a nugget once too."

"Boomer, I was never a nugget. I came out of the womb a Viper pilot!"

Helo spoke up again. "Let me ask you this, Starbuck. Do you believe in the old stories that one of our listening outposts detected a Cylon signal once? About ten years ago?"

"Can't say. No one knows where those frakkers went. Or why they quit. Sure, it could be possible. In fact, I think I see one of them… right behind you!"

"Now I would call that a made-up story, Starbuck."

"Boomer? I thought you had my back," Starbuck said with mock emotion.

"Always, Starbuck. But not when you're lying out of your ass."

*****

Kara was running through the corridors of the Galactica again, keeping fit and staying busy. She felt that she was in a good place. Adama is a professional and a leader. But he’s not a hardass when he doesn’t need to be. Other than a couple of military operations against drug smugglers on Tauron, Galactica’s crew hadn’t seen much action recently. Then Kara thought that maybe the reason Adama didn’t need to be so hard on everyone was because he let Tigh be the bad guy. And maybe Tigh was the bad guy because of his wife. Maybe he was so grumpy and maybe he drank so much because of Ellen. Maybe.

Just as she began to think about Col. Tigh, Kara ran by the Commander.

“Hello, Starbuck.”

“Hello, sir. Good day, sir!”

“What do you hear, Starbuck?”

“Nothing but the rain.”

*****

As Kara continued her run, she recalled the moment in her first month on Galactica when Commander Adama had explained the meaning of the call and response, “What do you hear?”

“I don’t understand, sir. About what I heard out there, sir.”

Adama smiled. “Oh, yes. Sometimes I forget that the new pilots don’t know about this. It’s a saying we have. At least a saying that some of us have. Col. Tigh, he’s not very fond of it. To each his own.”

Kara was interested to hear more.

“It’s thought that the chant, jodie, was created during the Cylon War, by a previous commander of the Galactica. Might have been during a fierce, extended battle. Might have been during one of the long periods of waiting in between engagements. He could have been bored. Then he had the time to come up with something like this.

“Unfortunately, the original chant was lost. No one knows what the original lines were. Everyone was too busy fighting for the survival of the Colonies to put it down on paper or to see that the jodie was passed on accurately.

“Some of the lines were changed. Others were forgotten. People added new lines for different occasions. The original was lost. Lost in the fog of war. Or the fog of history.”

“That’s too bad, sir. I’d like to know what they said back then, sir.”

“So would I, Starbuck. As commander of this ship, I have a keen interest in the traditions of the Galactica crew. I asked Lt. Gaeta to do some research on this last year when we were in space dock. He tracked down some interesting leads, but he couldn’t verify everything. It is too bad.

“The jodie became altered over the years and increasingly unrecognizable. It became something of a running joke on the ship. Most jodies rhymed. Ours didn’t. We became quite proud of this. This was our rhyme, flawed as it was. It marked the history of the Battlestar Galactica. It’s our secret code, our secret handshake if you will.”

“I appreciate you telling me all this, sir. I’m grateful for the opportunity to serve aboard the Galactica as well. If you don’t mind me asking, what is the entire jodie, sir?”

“I don’t know if I remember all of it. Or if there is anything to remember. It starts off as, What do you hear, Starbuck? Nothing but the rain. Then grab your gun and bring in the cat. Boom! Boom! Boom! Or Aye-aye, sir! No two people say the same thing though. This can be our personal version.”

“I’m honored, sir,” Kara said with genuine emotion.

“Lt. Gaeta stated that some personnel think of the jodie as a way to remember the unknown soldiers from the Cylon War. Or the known victims on the Galactica. A way to remember and honor our dead.” A look of melancholy began to wash over Adama as he said this. Kara realized that he was referring to his son Zak. She quickly tried to change the tone of the conversation.

“But it’s a good way to honor our dead, by being alive, sir.”

“Yes. Yes, it is Starbuck. That’s a very good way of looking at it. Of course, there are other ways to look at it. Such as… well, according to Lt. Gaeta, some joked that the non-rhyming jodie was just a sign of how frakked up everything was on the Galactica. And still is.” Adama looked over at Starbuck with a hint of a smile.

“Yes, Starbuck, some of the crew said that the jodie has no more meaning than SNAFU. Situation Normal: All Frakked Up.”

“Good one, sir.”

“In my younger days, I thought the same thing. That the jodie reflected poorly on the Galactica and her crew and commander. But my thoughts have changed over the years. It shows that we are real. That we are simple and that we are strong. And that we remember our colleagues, our brothers and sisters-in-arms. We remember their sacrifices, their contributions and their loss.”

*****

The memory of this peaceful time in Kara Thrace’s tumultuous life came and went as she began to fade from our existence. Her mission was complete. Humanity had made peace, with itself and with the Cylons. They had found a home for all of them. Even the bitter and oppressed Centurions found peace and freedom.

If only Sam had been there to share the moment of discovery. Of course, he had been alive, but he was not fully conscious and aware of himself as an individual, Cylon or human, whatever he truly was. But Samuel Anders, he too found peace as he guided the remnants of the tortured fleet into the Sun.

Lee Adama faded from view. The grass faded away. The ground, the earth, everything disappeared and blended with the vibrant azure sky. Kara herself faded and slipped out of existence…

 

“What do you hear, Starbuck?”  
“Nothing but the rain.”

“What do you feel, Starbuck?”  
“Nothing but pain.”

“Where are you going, Starbuck?”  
“Off to war.”

“What are you doing, Starbuck?”  
“Drinking at the bar.”

“Time’s a wastin’, Starbuck.”  
“Yes, I know.”

“Wake up, Starbuck”  
“Gods below”

“Move out, Starbuck.”  
“OK, sir.”

“Grab your gun, Starbuck.  
Bring the cat home.”

*****

“Jobs all done, Cylons dead.”  
“Sweet dreams, toaster. Shot ‘em in the head.”

“Wrap it up, Starbuck.”  
“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Wrap it up, Starbuck.”  
“Right away, sir.”

“Call off the dogs, bring in the cat.”  
“Boom! Boom! Boom! Rat-a-tat-tat.”

*****

“Mission’s over, Harbinger of Death.”  
“Peace is here. No. Not death.”

“Cylon, Human, one and the same.”  
“Wait a thousand years, more of the same.”

“Say goodbye, Starbuck. Starbuck, goodbye.”  
“Off to the heavens, now we fly.”

“Goodnight, Starbuck. Goodnight, Kara.”  
“Hello, Earth. Hello, Hera.”

*****

“What do you feel, Starbuck?”

“No more pain.”

“What do you hear, Starbuck?”

“Nothing but the rain.”


End file.
